Only hymns upon your lips
by liveinlivingcolour
Summary: The thoughts, of suicide, of pain, or heartache, of worthlessness, of sadness that were so present in Moritz hours before had faded like shadows that had dispelled when forced into the touch of the sunlight. Spring Awakening AU- What if Moritz didn't kill himself? What if Ilse was able to take away his pain in some other way.


Spring Awakening- Moritz Stiefel & Ilse

**No more shadows anymore**

_Don't do sadness_

_so been there _

_don't do sadness_

_just don't care_

"Goodnight Ilse," he said, turning his head away from her. His voice was supposed to sound demanding and have a sense of finality instead it sounded broken and scared.

Ilse pushed her hair behind her left ear. "Goodnight," she replied disappointedly but she didn't move, she stayed staring at Moritz and clutching onto the flowers that she had picked so desperately.

Moritz turned his head to look at her, "Virgil, the equations-Remember?"

She nodded but stepped slightly closer to him and reached on a hand to touch his arm but he shrugged her off, "Just for an hour, I…"

"I can't," he whispered, eyes starting to fill up and bottom lip quivering. This wasn't about going home with her and playing like when they were children again, it was something more. It was about something that they couldn't control, that burning desire that stirred in both of them. That burning desire that had stirred in Moritz since the dreams, since reading what Melchior had written, since fantasising about the drawings, since fantasising about Ilse.

"Well, walk me at least?" Her heart had sunk when he refused because she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. The memories of their childhood and when they were torn apart because he was a boy and she was a girl. Now, all she wanted was for them to be reunited again, even if it was just for an hour.

"Honestly, I wish I could." His voice was louder this time but this just amplified the inner battle that she was struggling against. He wanted this but he was... scared. But he needed comforting, he needed somebody to take the pain away in his last few moments. And they were his last few moments, he could feel the cold, hard metal of the gun in his pocket through his clothes. It was a constant reminder of what he had come here to do. To put an end to the sadness, the pain, everything. But there was another way; Ilse could take all of that away. Only he was more scared of that than the gun in his pocket.

No matter how many times men had tried to take her pain away, it made her feel worse. It made her think of what her father did to her, the real reason that she ran away to live in the artist colony. She could handle her father beating her but not the other things, never the other things. But Moritz, if Moritz could hold her just for a moment, it would comfort her, calm her, heal her even. And the tears sprung to her eyes because he rejected her. "You know, by the time you finally wake up, I'll be lying on some trash heap," she spat, her throat thick with tears. She ran away, dropping the flowers that she had been clutching on the floor.

That's when he finally woke up.

"For the love of God, all I had to do was say yes!" He dragged his hands through his hair. "Ilse, Ilse!" Moritz shouted after her but it was useless, she ran away so quickly she probably didn't even hear him and even if she had, she wouldn't come back. The gun pressed against him one last time.

"So what will I say? I'll tell them all. The angels," he said looking up at the sky above him. "I got drunk in the snow!" he shouted, finally sounding content and peaceful, as if he was accepting his imminent end. "And sang, and played pirates. Yes. I'll tell them. I'm ready now."

Moritz spotted the flowers that Ilse dropped on the floor. He voice became lower now, "I'll be an angel."

He dropped to his knees, picked up the flowers and smelled them. Beautiful. The last thing he would ever smell. "Ten minutes ago, you could see the entire horizon. Now, only the dusk. And the first few stars."

He placed the flowers down again with a sad smile and the memory of Ilse. "So dark."

He pulled the gun out of his pocket and stared at it, "So dark."

She ran away. She knew what she was going to do. Go back to those artists, get drunk and let each of them have their way with her. Sure, it would remind her of what her father did but maybe she could just forget Moritz. Ilse laughed at herself, why would Moritz want anything to do with her. He probably didn't even truly remember the times they played together as children.

"Ilse, Ilse!" She heard his distant cries and froze. They were pained and full of sudden realization. He wanted her. She thought back to how hard it was for him to say know, she realized the internal battle that he was fighting whilst talking to her, she remember the pain in his eyes, his voice thick with tears. How her jumped when she walked in and she's talked and talked and never noticed how nervous and sad he seemed. She ran back because there was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that he was going to do something stupid and that she could've stopped it, or that she could stop it.

"So dark." Ilse saw the gun in his hands. She saw how he was about to lift it up, into his mouth and pull the trigger.

"Moritz, no!" she shouted. Moritz furrowed his eye brows.

"Ilse?" his voice was calm but he had tears springing in his eyes. Ilse ran forward and dropped down on her knees before him. She pulled his head close to her chest and his tears spilled out down the artists' shirt that she was wearing, matching the drops of paint already stained. She pulled him even closer as the sobs racked through his body. Moving her hand slowly down his arm to his hand, she unfurled his fingers from his strong grip on the gun. As she released it, it clattered to the floor and Ilse pushed it further away, out of his grasp.

Her heart was racing and, with his head pressed against it, he could feel it. Her hand travelled back up his arm and rested on his cheek, the other hand rubbing circles comfortingly on his back.

His crying stopped and he looked up at Ilse, the moon light casting shadows over her face making her even more beautiful. Ilse dropped her arm that was holding him and instead intertwined their fingers. They were kneeling, Moritz was looking down at Ilse with eyes filled with wonder and something that she couldn't can't place. The corners of his mouth were curling up into a smile. He looked serene, angelic.

She moved slowly as if she was a butterfly that she didn't want to frighten away. Her hand ended up in his hair, that beautiful mess of hair, and her other hand still holding his cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tears. She moved closer still, their lips almost touching. He closed his eyes and sighed peacefully. Softly, she pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes. Her kiss was slow, it was nice, it was warming his heart but he was frozen in a state on no response. She changed her kiss ever so slightly, adding more passion into it.

He pulled away and she slowly opened her eyes. "This is heaven isn't it?"

She shook her head, "This is real."

"I'm dead. This is heaven." This time it was her who started crying. Only it was a silent tear that rolled down her cheek. With his thumb he brushed it away, "You can't cry in heaven. Angels can't cry," he told her, with a slight smile.

"I'm not an angel and you're not in heaven. You're alive. You're with me." This time he had moved closer to her lips, she was barely audible but the silence between them meant that there was no need to be loud.

He closed his eyes again, "I know I shouldn't do this. Not to angel. It's a sin."

"You're not in heaven, Moritz."

He opened his eyes again. "I know," he whispered, before pulling her into a kiss, hands grasping at her waist, her hands pulling at his hair.

This kiss wasn't soft like the one Ilse had given him. It should have been everything that first kisses were supposed to be, sloppy, inexperienced, overeager and slightly scared. Only this kiss was perfect. All of his anger, pain, and sadness was forced into this kiss. Their lips moulded together like they were made just for that purpose. Melchior had said that the… anatomies would fit together but Moritz thought that he didn't know about the kiss. How the lips should fit together in a mix of excitement, passion, longing, desperation.

Ilse moved her hand from his hair, down his cheek, before stopping on his tie. She tugged on it hard, pulling him even closer, if that was even possible. Her hands travelled down again, unbuttoning the buttons on his blazer. He reluctantly pulled away from this kiss, leaving them both panting for breath, hearts racing. He shrugs off his blazer. She unfastens his tie and then the buttons on his shirt as he leaves little kisses on her forehead, in her hair and occasionally he picks up her hands and kisses her fingers. He tugs his shirt off and then kicks off his shoes and attempts to push his socks off that always end up around his ankles. She pushes her body back against his and pulls him into another kiss; another kiss that leaves them both panting and breathless.

Moritz reaches out and fumbles with the buttons on her shirt as she kissed his shoulders, his collar bone, his chest and fumbles with the button on his pants, sliding her hand down them and smiling inside as she feels the hard lump. And then she's shrugging the shirt off and he's pulling his shorts and socks off.

She's lying down on the cold, hard ground but she doesn't mind. He's leaning over, pressing another kiss to her hungry lips but his eyebrows are furrowed and he seems more reserved than before. She pushes herself up onto her shoulders.

"Moritz?" she asks, moving a hand to stroke his cheek. They're kneeling again.

He looks away, "I don't know what to do."

She smiles and pulls of the practically translucent slip that she had on underneath her shirt to reveal her naked body. His eyes raked up and down it, taking every inch of it in. She kisses him again, slowly like the first time and he pulls his underwear down. They're both naked, staring at each other, studying each other.

"I'll teach you," she whispers against his lips. "Touch me," she instructs. His hands travel from her waist further and further down. She lets out a little gasp as he touches it, so tentatively. It's unlike anything she's felt before. Her hand is touching him not before too long, slow strokes, carefully because she knows how quickly it can happen the first time. They're both longing for this so much.

Suddenly, both his hands are on her cheeks, pulling her face closer to his, hungrily kissing her as if she's the last thing he'll ever taste. Maybe she is.

Moritz leans forward, pushing Ilse down so she's lying on the floor again and she's going to pull way and ask if he wants her on top but before she can, his inner animal instinct has taken over and he's lifting her legs up around him.

It takes a few moments to get into the rhythm of it but when they do it perfect. Her nails are digging in his back; his nails are digging into her thighs and pulling at her hair. They're both letting out little gasps, utter blasphemous words, saying each other's names.

She looks up at him. The moonlight casting shadows all over his body, highlighting his cheek bones, making shadows of his eye lashes and his white skin. His hair sicking up all over his head looking more dishevelled than usual.

He looks down at her. Dark hair sprawled out around her head, making waves on the ground, her green eyes shining up at him, her lips occasionally moving with unspoken words. The moon light highlighting her even more, making her look like she truly was an angel.

He's kissing her lips, her cheeks, her chin, her chest, her breasts, he's kissing everywhere that he possibly can and she's clinging onto him, wanting to bury her face into his hair, kissing everywhere that she can.

They can't tell where one of them starts and the other begins, bodies intertwined, lips interlocked, limbs tangled together.

She expects it to be over quickly but it isn't and it shocks her because the first time is usually disappointingly quick and over. She doesn't think it's his first time because he's so good and he exerts an extraordinary amount of control over his body. In truth, he's just savouring every moment he can with Ilse. The nerves that he had about this had vanished at the first touch and he was surprised at how naturally the motions and the rhythm had come to him.

As it came to the end, he let out a grunt of ecstasy and she let out a scream over joy. She held him close to her, grasping hold of him, like he was going to fade away from her, like he was going to leave her. They lay like this for a few minutes, nobody speaking just hearing the panting breath and the racing hearts. He kissed her ferociously and then rolled of her. They lay next to each other, fingers laced together, still breathing heavily, hearts still flying.

They got dressed, slowly, reluctantly. It took them longer than it should have. With Moritz's hands watching to touch every part of Ilse, leaving no part of it alone. She did the same, kissing and touching every place that she could find. They each kissed the scars that their bodies refused to let fade and maybe that was the most beautiful part, pressing lips against the pain and hoping that it would be enough to heal it forever.

Moritz saw the gun of the floor and bent down to pick it up. He twirled the cool metal around in his hands and Ilse comfortingly placed her hand on his shoulder.

The thoughts, of suicide, of pain, or heartache, of worthlessness, of sadness that were so present in Moritz hours before had faded like shadows that had dispelled when forced into the touch of the sunlight. Ilse was his sunlight.


End file.
